The house looked like any ordinary dwelling, surrounded on three sides by rooms, with the remaining side leading to an outside door. In the middle of the small courtyard grew an osmanthus tree, laden with clusters of tiny yellow blossoms, filling the air with a sweet fragrance as a gentle breeze passed by.

Mi Lu had entered formations many times and, seeing the scene before him, immediately understood they had fallen into another formation. Yet, he couldn’t quite tell what kind of formation it was.

HuLü Yan’s bloodshot eyes still glared intensely, and his single hand was wrapped tightly around Wu De’s neck, lifting him higher and higher. Wu De’s face had turned completely pale, his breaths shallow, and he was barely clinging to consciousness. Mi Lu hurried forward and grabbed HuLü Yan’s hand.

“Hold on,” Mi Lu said. “Let’s see where we are first.”

HuLü Yan didn’t respond. The murderous intent swirling in his eyes surged wildly, and the intense aura surrounding him seemed to make the air itself drop a few degrees. Wu De’s hands hung limply at his sides, his eyes closing as all strength to resist left him.

“HuLü Yan!” Mi Lu’s face turned deathly pale as he released his grip and, instead, wrapped his arms around HuLü Yan’s waist from behind. “If you keep going, you’ll kill him.”

Mi Lu called HuLü Yan’s name repeatedly. Only when Wu De’s head slumped to the side, fainting on the spot, did HuLü Yan’s grip finally loosen under Mi Lu’s anxious voice.

Wu De fell to the ground with a heavy thud.

Mi Lu quickly checked his breath and found a faint, lingering sign of life, which made him exhale in relief. When he looked back at HuLü Yan, HuLü Yan’s expression was ashen, his posture rigid as he stood motionless, his dark eyes staring blankly at Mi Lu.

Mi Lu propped Wu De against the osmanthus tree, then rose and walked over to HuLü Yan, carefully reaching for his hand. Before he could fully clasp HuLü Yan’s fingers, HuLü Yan suddenly jolted as if awakening from a dream and gripped his hand tightly.

HuLü Yan’s entire body was trembling, his hand shaking, as though he was afraid of something, suppressing and avoiding something at the same time.

After a long while, HuLü Yan spoke, “That place… was where I lived when I was a child.”

Mi Lu listened silently, reaching out with his other hand to cover the back of HuLü Yan’s hand. But HuLü Yan said nothing more and lapsed into silence.

Based on HuLü Yan’s words, Mi Lu could guess the reason behind HuLü Yan’s outburst. That dusty courtyard in Manchun Garden was a wound HuLü Yan’s heart could not bear to reopen. Not only had Wu De touched that wound, but he had cruelly peeled back the barely healed scar, exposing the raw pain beneath.

As he thought this, Mi Lu suddenly heard a faint noise from the house directly across from them, as though someone was inside. He asked HuLü Yan, “Shall we go inside and take a look?”

HuLü Yan gave no answer. Mi Lu didn’t push him, standing quietly by his side.

After a moment, HuLü Yan extended his arm, pulling Mi Lu close, burying his face in Mi Lu’s neck.

HuLü Yan tightened his hold as if he wanted to merge their bodies into one.

“Mi Lu, I feel so cold,” HuLü Yan murmured, his voice muffled against Mi Lu’s neck.

Mi Lu hugged HuLü Yan back, one hand gently stroking his back. He wasn’t sure if this would help HuLü Yan feel any better, but it was all he could do.

HuLü Yan was ice-cold all over.

It was odd. Outside the formation, it was scorching hot, and inside, sunlight was bright and warm. Yet none of it seemed to reach him; it was as if he had fallen into a freezing abyss, cold seeping into his bones.

He could clearly feel a gaping hole in his chest—a pitch-black void that nothing could fill. All he could do was hold Mi Lu tightly, trying to fill that emptiness with Mi Lu’s warmth.

Eventually, they stepped inside the house.

The interior was simply furnished, with just a few chairs, tables, and cabinets. In the center lay a soft, fluffy carpet, upon which two children, about seven or eight years old, sat facing each other, a boy and a girl.

The boy and girl sat opposite each other, with a half-finished kite between them. The boy, frowning, held a piece of white paper and carefully tried to attach it to the kite. The girl, with chubby cheeks and twin pigtails, watched him intently as he worked.

But the boy seemed clumsy; after a long time, he still hadn’t managed to paste the paper on properly, either failing to secure it or accidentally poking holes in it. After waiting patiently, the girl finally ran out of patience, raised a tiny fist, and playfully punched the boy’s shoulder.

“Zhai Feng, you’re too clumsy! You can’t even paste a kite properly!”

“Zhai Feng?” Mi Lu looked at HuLü Yan in surprise. “Is he Zhai Feng?”

HuLü Yan’s face was expressionless as he stared at the two children for a long time before nodding.

Since the children couldn’t see them, Mi Lu moved closer and examined the boy’s face, detecting a faint sense of familiarity in his features.

Zhai Feng, however, didn’t seem to mind being punched. He rubbed his nose, grinning foolishly. “Don’t get mad, Liu Liu. I’m just not used to it. I’ll get better after a few more tries.”

The girl named Liu Liu pouted, huffing with arms crossed, “If you mess up again, I’ll go get Daddy to make it instead!”

Zhai Feng wiped the sweat from his brow, continued working on the kite, and tried to calm Liu Liu. “Almost there, almost there.”

Time flowed strangely within the formation. Just as osmanthus bloomed in August and September, yet they were flying kites meant for February or March. In mere moments, day had turned to night.

Soon, Lady Zhai came to fetch Zhai Feng, and the kite remained unfinished. Feeling cheated, Liu Liu’s eyes filled with tears, and she began crying loudly. Snot and tears covered her face as she threw herself into her mother’s arms, who looked at Lady Zhai apologetically and knelt to console her.

Meanwhile, Liu Liu’s father, with a frown, scolded, “Wen Liuliu, you’re too old to be making such a fuss. The kite didn’t get finished, that’s all. Tomorrow, Daddy will get someone to make one for each of you. Stop crying.”

Wen Liuliu hid in her mother’s arms, frightened by her father’s tone, before bravely poking her head out to make a face at him.

The night passed quickly.

When morning came again, a few days had passed.

Zhai Feng had finally managed to finish the kite and personally handed it to Wen Liuliu.

Though Wen Liuliu had been upset before, her face lit up when she saw the kite Zhai Feng held out from behind him.

“Wow!” Wen Liuliu exclaimed, turning the kite over in her hands to examine it.

She quickly remembered something, then tiptoed and gave Zhai Feng a quick peck on the cheek.

Her sweet voice rang out, as clear and sugary as candied dates, “Thank you, Brother Zhai Feng.”

Zhai Feng froze, his face turning red. Once Wen Liuliu moved away, he was so flustered he forgot how to respond. “Ah? No… no problem…”

The two of them then went to the hillside to fly the kite.

Years passed in a blink.

Within the formation, the scenes flickered, sometimes moving faster or slower, with no clear order. Some moments were vivid, while others were so blurry that it was hard to see people’s faces. Some events even appeared in reverse, with Zhai Feng and Wen Liuliu discussing something days before it happened.

Mi Lu, who had experienced HuLü Yan’s memory illusions before, became increasingly thoughtful.

As he watched, he became certain this was a formation meant to store the memories of the deceased.

And as for the deceased…

It was evident that the person was Wen Liuliu, the woman Mi Lu had seen in HuLü Yan’s memory fragments.

But something puzzled Mi Lu—HuLü Yan’s mother was named HuLü Wan. How could she be Wen Liuliu?

And Wen Liuliu’s parents had clearly defined identities, with no connection to the HuLü family.

Years passed, and Wen Liuliu grew into a graceful young girl of twelve or thirteen. When Zhai Feng was taken in by an elder from Tian Ming Mountain, Wen Liuliu begged her parents to let her join a cultivation sect as well.

Her indulgent mother, Lady Liu, eventually used her connections to secure Wen Liuliu a spot in the HuLü household—not as a disciple, but as the personal companion of the eldest daughter, HuLü Wan.

At that time, HuLü Wan was already a disciple of the Xing Tian Sect and, as a teenager, often required a companion. The HuLü family wanted a couple of capable, reputable girls to keep HuLü Wan company.

One early morning, Wen Liuliu saw HuLü Wan for the first time.

Dressed in pink and white, with a simple bun and pearl earrings, HuLü Wan wore a touch of makeup. Though plainly adorned, her beauty and the natural confidence she exuded captured everyone’s attention.

Wen Liuliu gazed at HuLü Wan with admiration and envy in her eyes.

In a twist of fate, HuLü Wan passed over the other girls and chose Wen Liuliu as her companion with a small smile.

Standing before Wen Liuliu, HuLü Wan tossed her a jade pendant marked with the HuLü family crest, worth a fortune.

“You’ll do,” HuLü Wan said, her lips curling with amusement. “What’s your name?”

Wen Liuliu’s face flushed as she stammered, “I’m Wen Liuliu, Miss.”

“Mm, a fitting name.” HuLü Wan nodded with mock seriousness, eyeing her up and down. “Like a willow, with skinny arms and legs. You’ll need some training.”

Wen Liuliu held the jade pendant, her cheeks reddening.

Mi Lu stared in shock from the sidelines.

So HuLü Wan was someone else entirely?! How, then, did Wen Liuliu end up as HuLü Yan’s mother?

He had heard HuLü Yan call Wen Liuliu “Mother” in his memory fragments.

Mi Lu began to doubt his memory, wondering if he had heard wrong.

But a glance at HuLü Yan’s reaction dispelled his doubts.

HuLü Yan was staring at HuLü Wan, who had taken Wen Liuliu to her courtyard, with a gaze so penetrating it seemed to bore into her soul.